


Embrace

by shepardly



Series: Whumptober Prompts [3]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of hurt, Lot a bit of comfort, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepardly/pseuds/shepardly
Summary: Hanzo’s been abducted and McCree won’t give up on him.





	Embrace

*

As the hours turned into a day, and then the day into days, McCree could feel his calm getting more and more damaged as Hanzo remained missing. Not that he’d been terribly calm to start with; waking up in an abandoned underground bunker tied up and alone tended to leave a person on edge. Fortunately, his metal prosthetic arm made quick work of the ratty rope his wrists had been tied with, and the scrapes and bruising on his right wrist from the rope were already scabbed over and starting to heal. Another sign that time was slipping away and McCree wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly had happened to them or where Hanzo had gone.

He had traveled between the New Vegas Strip and the bunker going on three times, now, trudging through the desert with a pack full of more dynamite and a working drill that he had spent an embarrassing amount of caps on. It needed power, and he hadn’t exactly worked out how that was going to happen yet, but he had a few ideas. The metal hatch in the bunker had proven to be tougher than he expected, but he was determined that it wouldn’t stop him. He had a gut feeling that Hanzo was somewhere on the other side of that hatch, and this bag of dynamite and the power drill weren’t going to let the hatch stay in his way for long.

He put his head down to power up the last of the hill he was climbing, and nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw someone standing on the path in front of him on the other side of the hill.

Hanzo dropped his pack in the sand like it weighed a metric ton and let out a strange, shaky laugh.

“Hanzo!” McCree shouted, already closing the distance between them. Hanzo only had time to lift his arms and sway forward a bit as McCree crashed into him, grabbing him in a tight embrace for a long moment before holding him out at arms length, looking him over with sharp, worried eyes. “Are you hurt? Where were you?! I thought—!”

The thought got stuck in his throat. He’d been _worried_, dammit, and for good reason. Hanzo gave him a soft, lopsided smile, and McCree grabbed him in a hug again, just holding onto him for the sake of reassuring himself that Hanzo was here, _alive._

“I could ask you the same.” Hanzo rasped. He sounded exhausted, but he held McCree just as tightly. “When I returned to the bunker, and you weren’t there, I was afraid—”

He fell silent as well, and they simply held onto each other tightly, and McCree squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened, burying his face against Hanzo’s neck. He felt a tear slide down the side of his nose anyway, and Hanzo flinched when it splashed against his neck.

McCree was instantly on high alert again, pulling back enough to look Hanzo over again more closely.

“I’m fine,” Hanzo started wearily, but McCree gently pushed the collar of his jacket down to reveal a blistered and raw ring on the skin around Hanzo’s neck. McCree went very still, his mind going strangely blank except for the sight of damaged flesh, injuries that could only be caused by an electrified slave collar.

“McCree,” Hanzo put his hand over McCree’s, startling him from his revery. “I’m fine. I’m here. And so are you.”

“Who did this?” McCree’s voice was low. “I’ll—”

“_Jesse,_” Hanzo said more firmly, interrupting him. “It’s taken care of. The one that did this won’t hurt anyone else.”

It still didn’t sit right with him, but McCree had enough sense to be relieved that Hanzo had taken care of it and was here now. He looked Hanzo in the eye again, searchingly.

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Hanzo sighed, seeming to read his mind. “I want to get back to The Lucky 38 before dark. I’m exhausted. And I need a bath.”

McCree pretended to sniff him and made a face. “That’s fair.”

Hanzo half-heartedly punched him in the bicep before turning for his pack, and groaned at the weight after barely lifting it off the ground.

“Here, let me.” McCree snatched the other strap and hoisted the pack up, nearly falling over in the attempt. “Holy Mother of— What have you got in this thing? Bricks?”

“Of gold.” Hanzo nodded.

That stopped McCree dead again. Even after all this time, Hanzo was still capable of pulling his leg. It was difficult to tell when he was joking or not at times.

“Yer kidding.” McCree challenged. Hanzo stopped him to pull an oddly shaped brick from the side pocket and handed it over for inspection. McCree ran a thumb over the dusty surface, polishing the symbol stamped on the top of the bar.

“_Sierra Madre._” McCree read. “Wait. Like the casino?”

“Exactly like the casino.” Hanzo was looking longingly down the path, clearly eager to get home. “The vault was mostly like the rumours say. There were many more bars there, but I only grabbed six.”

“I’m not sure you should have grabbed even that many.” McCree grimaced at the weight of the pack again. 

“You’re probably right.” Hanzo admitted. “It was a foolish risk. Although I would have brought at least one as proof, anyway.”

“I get that.” McCree conceded. “If you’re planning on selling any, you’re gonna have a hard time finding anyone with the caps for it.”

“I thought that, too. I was thinking of selling it to the Gun Runners’ Arsenal robot. It tends to have the most caps on hand.”

“And leaves them with a hunk of gold so valuable its useless.” McCree grinned at him. “I like the way you think.”

Hanzo tiredly smiled back at him. It took a long moment for McCree to drag his gaze away, but Hanzo looked like he’d be capable of sleeping on his feet at this point. It was time to head back.

“I need to do some repacking here if I’m going to carry all this.” McCree confessed, setting their packs down side by side.

“What are you carrying?” Hanzo asked suspiciously as McCree began opening his own pack. “Dynamite?”

“_No._” McCree said automatically, defensively. “Well, yes. But this drill is heavier than it is.”

“McCree…”

“I was _worried_.” McCree said, a touch more sharply than he intended then stopped, his throat tight.

“I can see that.” Hanzo said mildly. “Here. We can bury the dynamite and mark it on my Pip-Boy to come back for later.”

It didn’t take them long, working together, to do as Hanzo suggested and distribute the packs more evenly and comfortably for the both of them before starting their trek back to The Lucky 38. Despite having his load lightened, Hanzo still walked a bit slower than usual, clearly exhausted. McCree was still suspicious of how bad his injuries actually were, but he seemed steady enough on his feet and still trudged on with his single-minded determination, so he let it be for when they got back into town.

Normally, they walked single file while traveling through the desert, but considering McCree had just come this way for the fourth time he was confident that there wouldn’t be anything they couldn’t handle on the way home. Hanzo seemed to agree, because he didn’t protest when McCree laced their fingers together as they walked.

“So?” McCree nudged his shoulder against Hanzo’s. “You said you’d tell me the story.”

“Ugh.” Hanzo said succinctly. “Where do I start?”

“How about the part where we went into an abandoned underground bunker and got gassed until we passed out?” 

Hanzo shuddered at that, and McCree shifted his grip so he could sling his arm over Hanzo’s shoulders. Hanzi responded by wrapping his arm around McCree’s ribs, their steps staying in sync as Hanzo considered how to begin.

As McCree listened, his grip unconsciously tightened and loosened around Hanzo’s shoulders in response to what he was hearing. Hanzo responded with his own squeezes, reassuring and firm.

But it was as Hanzo had said. He was fine. He was here. And so was McCree.

*


End file.
